


Escape Base: The Search For The Black Lion

by readitson



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aged-Up Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Biological Weapons, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Clubbing, Cybernetics, Cyberpunk, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Future, Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, M/M, Mystery, Plaxum/Nyma, Punk, Saving the World, Science Fiction, Shance Zine, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Smoking, Tech Genuis Pidge, Technology, The world is fucked, Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 08:04:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18069659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readitson/pseuds/readitson
Summary: The cities are all that exist. Steel, cold, harsh landscapes. Different groups run sectors of the cities and Lance has spent most of his life working for one of the biggest. Shiro lives in a hostel, his arm lost to those conducting human experiments, obsessed with enhancing the human race. There are horrors in their world that are kept in the dark but Shiro is tired of hiding, he's going to bring them to light no matter what the consequence.The two of them are very different, but it's no accident when their paths meet.





	Escape Base: The Search For The Black Lion

**Author's Note:**

> This was my fic for the wonderful shiro zine Altas by the shance support squad, you can find a free download of it here~ https://shancesupportsquad.tumblr.com/post/183127067557/atlas-is-finally-here-there-are-over-100-pages
> 
> The incredible art of Lance is by Echocat, find her on tumblr at xxxechocatxxx and instagram echocat_art she's wildly talented and I adore her so much for drawing this piece, give her love! 
> 
> I seriously had an amazing time with this zine loved every second of creating this piece, i hope you enjoy it!

His hair was long and dark brown, almost black, with a long streak of white running through. Lance thought he looked out of place, didn’t know what someone like that was doing in there. Someone so reserved, mysterious, moving silently through the crowd. On second glance he saw the neon purple eye paint he was wearing shine through the dark of the club. There it was, the bright and loud marks that meant he belonged. He also had glowing purple bands up his arms to match and a sleeveless vest that showed the various coloured paints smudged over his biceps. His black skirt came down to his shins, and Lance could just about see the ripped tights he wore underneath the high military boots.

Lance usually recognized who frequented and who was new there. He definitely hadn't seen him there before. A new song came on and Lance moved through the crowd. He felt the rhythm shake the ground, each beat thrumming through the entire room like a wave towards him. Scattered sound flitted over his ears and he followed the pumping of the bass. As he approached, he spied the sword that the new person carried. Purple light emitted warmly from the hilt and across the handle from its place at his hip. He smiled. He recognized the maker.

People around him danced as the strobe lights stuttered, but the man was nearly still, gently swaying on his feet. He was letting the music fill him with intention for every push forwards and back. Lance closed his eyes and let his body move, going with the waves and letting his arms rise and move when they wanted, his feet stepping and turning him as they pleased. Dancing was his break, his release. He trusted the crowd to take him where he needed to go.

A pause for breath in the melody caused him to rest his arms over his head and stop traveling. He opened his eyes and saw the man before him. They moved slowly, carefully, breath held in wait for the beat to return. Lance let his arms slide from his own head to the man's shoulders, bringing their foreheads close. The other let a breath go and slipped into the new rhythm, swaying side to side in time with Lance's movement.

The song picked up, along with the pace, but the two of them stayed. They moved in push and pull against each other, but perfectly together. Lance wrapped his fingers into soft, long hair and looked into the set of grey eyes before him. They looked back at him and two hands came up either side of his head. He felt them scrape lightly from the base of his skull to his crown, no resistance from the shaved parts of Lance's head. The fingers slid back down and cradled the back of his neck. He shivered.

“Lance,” he said over the music, as way of introduction.

The man titled his head close to his ear. “Shiro.”

Lance smirked and slid his hand away from Shiro. He continued to dance lightly as he reached into the back of his combat pants. Most people there were with their weapons, so no one blinked at Lance pulling out his gun and pressing it to Shiro's lower stomach.

“You a friend of Pidge’s?”

The lights rolled over Shiro’s face and away again. “I don't know who that is.” Lance laughed. He kept hold of his gun but moved it from his abdomen, going back to resting his arms around Shiro's neck.

The beat started building, climbing steadily, driving harder into their rhythm. A moment was coming. Something was going to happen. Lance and Shiro kept their eyes on each other. Just when it seemed like it was going to hold forever, the beat broke and the music exploded, vents opening and gas billowing into the room. It rolled in above them, dusty, colourful clouds. They inhaled steadily, deeply, in time with each other.

The world wobbled, the track skipped, Shiro's arm jolted and Lance watched everything turn sideways. In a matter of seconds he was being lifted back up again; Shiro looked at him for the first time that night with walls behind his eyes. They were no longer in the same rhythm. It was a shame, Lance thought, but he turned around to drift to another corner of the room.

“Wait,” Shiro told him. Though it was more of a question. He took Lance's hand and lead them across the floor, or where it should have been. Lance just saw a black pit when he looked down. The walls vibrated and Lance grinned. They arrived in a small, neon lit hallway and Shiro hunched over Lance, closing them in conversation.

“Can I see your gun?” Lance held it up between them and Shiro looked at it quietly. “What's your group?”

“Perimeter. 2.”

Shiro stared at him. He tried to pull his right arm away from Lance's sight, but his urge to hide it made it stand out more. It was nearly seamless, but he saw the purple glow of the symbol beneath the skin cover. “An enhancer,” Lance mused.

“I'm _not_ one of those,” Shiro snapped.

Lance flicked his eyes back up to Shiro's face. He tapped his lips, the wall behind Shiro spinning, but Shiro was steady. He tried again. “An unloyalist?”

Shiro clenched his jaw. Lance could see him trying to find the words and let him chew on them till they were ready. “I'm not one of those either.”

Lance leaned back, and that was when it sunk in. A wash of reluctancy and horror flooded him. He bit his lip and wrestled with opening his mouth or not, though one side always won out. “Experiment?” he whispered.

Shiro’s entire body tensed up. The lights in the hallway dimmed and Lance heard the humming of mechanics. He attempted to backtrack. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything.”

“Well, it’s right,” Shiro said. Lance could see purple reflected in his pupils and didn't look away, adamantly keeping his eyes on Shiro's.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything,” he repeated clearly. “Shiro, shall we go back to dancing?”

He kept completely still, waiting for the words to sink through the air to wherever he was. Shiro twitched slightly before it turned into slow nodding. “Yes. Yes.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Shiro’s arm fall back to his side.

As they walked back into the pit Lance took a few deep breaths, following behind Shiro and using the brief moment to collect himself. He slipped his gun back in its place and shook it off. They found a new place to dance in the midst of the crowd, and Lance wrapped his arms round Shiro's waist. He could hold him closer like that. Shiro placed a hand on Lance's chest and Lance let him use his heartbeat to ground them. They moved a little less fluidly, but no less in tune with each other. Around them was a restless ocean, jostling them every possible way, but they were tethered.

-

Shiro watched him, the way he moved his body and swayed his hips, an energy to it that seemed to crackle beneath the surface. Shiro swore he could feel it underneath his fingertips. He hoped the hand on Lance's chest came across as trusting, not threatening. Lance knew what he was and still chose to dance. If it had bothered him, Shiro would have seen it.

“Outside?” he asked. Lance nodded, letting him lead the way. They navigated through the mess of painted people, arms and hands dragging past them in temptation. The two of them walked close.

Lance unlocked one of the lockers at the side and took his jacket. He slipped it on as they both stepped outside, feeling like everything was moving in slow motion while crossing the threshold. The minute they were hit with night air it was as if a bubble had popped. Shiro eyed him up as Lance leaned on the railing and looked over the river. It had been covered up for as long as he’d known it, huge steel doors to protect what water was left running through the cities.

He could now clearly see Lance in the light of the evening. The big studded boots he wore looked huge and heavy, but the way he danced in them said otherwise. The wind rolled against his long jacket and Shiro admired it. It suited him, the smooth, black material, way the collar came up to shield his neck, the neon blue lining of it that glowed in the darkness. It reached down to his shins and curled around him, the deep pockets seemingly hidden by the illusion of slickness. It had no sleeves of course. He’d seen enough perimeter workers to know how their guns worked, leaving the skin bare for the weapons to latch on like extensions of themselves. His black tank top showed off his beautiful skin. The rips and holes had drawn Shiro's attention most of the evening. Lance was a sight to see, and he knew it.

Shiro watched him turn and hop up to sit on the railing. Their eyes met and Shiro dug around in his skirt pocket. He pulled out a few electronic cigarettes and offered one to Lance. He accepted, a small curve to his lips. He didn't take his eyes off Shiro as he inhaled, slowly blowing out pink smoke in his direction.

“Glad to see you trust me,” Shiro said.

Lance smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Should I not?”

He breathed out his own orange smoke and smiled back. “That depends.”

Lance hummed, amused. Shiro walked over to the railing and leaned beside him, looking up. “So, Lance, how does that fair in perimeter work?” he asked, nodding to his head.

Lance brought his hand up to run through the spikes of his hair and chuckled. “It's not that bad.”

“It's blue,” Shiro said, raising an eyebrow.

“I may have pistols on me tonight, but I'm a sniper more often than not. No need to blend in.”

Shiro leaned over and ran his hand up the side of Lance's head, mirroring how he had back in the club. He felt the roughness of the shaved parts, then ran his fingers through his spiked hair.

“I like the way the blue fades as it goes down. I'm assuming that’s your natural colour at the bottom.”

“It is,” Lance said. He leaned into Shiro's touch, giving him the same intense but comfortable eye contact. Lance finished with his cigarette and handed it back to Shiro. “Thanks,” he said, jumping off the railing.

He dusted his coat off and Shiro bit his lip. He made up his mind and took Lance’s hand in his. He looked at him quizzically but Shiro just pressed a card into his palm. “My number. I know you’re not allowed to ask questions where you work, but there are things happening they’re not telling you about. If you want the truth, call me.”

Lance thought about it, but nodded slowly. Shiro let go. He felt satisfied he said enough and set off down the road. Away from the club. Away from his last line of hope. If Lance didn’t call, it was over.

-

The huge metal doors opened just enough for Lance to ride through. They closed again behind him and he was plunged into momentary darkness. He waited, bike purring contently beneath him as he leaned on one leg. Then the power kicked in and the lights flicked on one by one, illuminating the unkempt and oil stained garage. Pidge squinted down at him from the second floor. He could see her in the small booth, goggles covering most of her face and the unshaved side of her hair pinned in crazy directions. Lance did a lazy salute.

“Friendly or business?” Pidge yelled down, soldering iron still in hand.

“Friendly business!”

She looked at him incredulously, but gestured for him to come up. He sauntered over to the corner of the room and started climbing the ladder to the next floor. After a rough hangover from the night before, he figured he could pep himself up with a visit to an old friend. He was greeted with a fistful of wires. “Hold these.” He did as he was told and followed Pidge as she paced her work table, mumbling to herself.

“How's the family?” Lance asked. She snorted.

He followed her across the room as she searched for something. “That a genuine question?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Aw, you care,” she teased.

Lance gave her a wounded look. “Of course I do.”

“I know, I know. God you’re a sap. They're busy, like all of us. Doing good though I think.”

Lance smiled. “That's good to hear. Did Colleen get the painting I sent?”

Pidge found what she needed and stopped to peer over at him. “She did. She liked it very much. It's hanging in the hallway.”

“I was really hoping she would. I would have kept it myself but- yeah. I'm glad it's got a home.”

Pidge hummed. “So, that's the friendly. What's the business?”

“You can't escape my pleasant conversations that easily,” he said. She rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine, business. I have a question about an item I’m pretty sure is yours. It’s a large sword. With some kind of purple power source. Did you sell anything like that recently? Maybe to a handsome man with long hair and a scar across his nose?”

She took the wires out his hands and frowned, regarding him suspiciously. “No. Not recently... I do remember making something similar a long while ago. Very expensive materials. There was only enough of it for the one item, but boy, was I well paid.”

“Hm.”

“I don't remember any guy like that though. Pretty sure it was picked up by some small dude with these god awful horn enhancements on his head. Honestly, I don't even know why they bother calling themselves ‘enhancers’. They weren’t even done well. Idiot.”

“I see. Alright, thanks anyway,” Lance sighed.

Pidge patted his arm. “Sorry it wasn’t what you were looking for. But, probably for the best. I don't want you sniffing around people and it getting traced back to me. I do promise my clients discretion, you know.”

He gave her a fond smile. “I know, Katie. I appreciate it.”

She smiled back, then smacked his arm. “I know you’re trying to be cute, but don't use that name in here again.” She went back to her workbench.  

Lance chuckled. He leaned against a table littered with steel parts and thought about Shiro again. “Well, if you remember anything else interesting or weird about that item or the buyer then give me a call, yeah? I feel like it could be important.”

“Sure.”

Lance watched her solder a wire to a weird looking box and lost himself in thought. Something about that sword seemed strange. Why was it made of such a rare energy? What kind of energy was it? If someone was willing to pay so much for it, how did it end up in Shiro’s hands?

“Was there something else or are you just going to watch me all night?” Pidge asked.

“Oh. That was the main thing. Although, if you have any new wheels in you’d like to show me…” he said, winking. Pidge let out a long suffering sigh.

“Fine, fine. Downstairs. In my personal garage. There’s a new piece Hunk brought in last night.”

Lance’s eyes lit up. Hunk always brought in the best stuff. He was a little disappointed he’d missed him, but they’d be able to catch up once the weekend was over.

Ever one for efficiency, Lance braced his hands and feet either sides of the ladder and slid down in one swoop. He jogged over to a door on the far left and waited until Pidge unlocked it from her office.

The sight upon opening the door was breathtaking.

Lance had never seen a car so beautiful in his life. It was all black, so black that you could get lost just by looking at it. The roof didn’t reach high, opting for a smooth, low to the ground top with blacked out windows and covers over the headlights. It was perfect. It had style, glamour, and stealth. Lance was sure he was looking at the car from his dreams. There was no way he’d be able to afford it of course, but knowing something like that existed was enough to inspire him to try. Soon he’d catch his break.

He poked his head round the door. “Has anyone bought this yet?” he yelled up.

“Nope.”

“Any chance you could keep it on reserve for me?”

“Nope.”

Lance sighed. He took one last look at the dark beauty of a car. “At least I tried,” he muttered to himself. He closed the door again and jogged back to his motorcycle.

“See you later,” he called.

He saw a hand waving from the office and started up his bike.

-

The light to the shelter was still on, and Shiro heard someone shuffle to the door after he knocked as quietly as he could. He was greeted by a tired but happy face.

“Thanks,” he whispered. Shay just smiled and closed the door behind him, letting him grab a glass of water from the sink before turning off the kitchen light.

He hadn’t planned to stay at the shelter long, he’d gotten used to moving from place to place, always on the move in case he encountered more of the people he was desperately trying to escape. But it had become his home, the people his family. They were like him. Experiments.

Shay followed him to the bathroom. He sat on the closed toilet seat and used a wet cloth to wipe off his makeup. “That’s two nights in a row you’ve been out,” She said, leaning against the doorway. “Did you see that guy again?” Shiro looked up and saw the gleam in her eye.

“Not tonight.”

Her shoulders dropped. “Aw, that’s too bad. He sounded interesting.”

“I’m sure I’ll hear from him soon,” Shiro assured her, “it’s only been a day.” He dipped his hands under the warm tap and splashed his face.

“It’s good to see you going out at least,” she said softly. Shiro dried his face and looked over at her fond expression. He walked over and kissed her on the forehead.

“Goodnight, Shay.”

“Goodnight.” She shuffled back into the room they slept in and Shiro followed. He changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt and crawled into his bed, laying on his back and counting down till he fell asleep.

The next morning he had to pry his eyes open. It wasn’t unusual to be woken up by squealing, but it certainly wasn’t going to do him any favours with the hangover that was starting to hit. He squinted over at the culprits, and saw Plaxum and Nyma sat one of their beds. They had a holo in hand and Shiro debated whether it was worth getting up over.

“Shiro, you’re up!” Plaxum chirped. She flounced over and shoved the holo in his face. “Have you seen the new LRA model? It’ gorgeous!” His eyes took a second to focus, then he saw it.

“It’s nothing I’ll ever afford, but if I could someday get within distance? That baby’s mine,” Nyma said.

His eyes flicked over the sleek detail of the model. “I hope you’re joking.”

“I am not. I may get caught again, but it’d be so worth it.”

He gave her a disapproving look, then went back to looking at the article. “Hm. I doubt _anyone_ would be able to afford this.”

Plaxum sighed. “I think that’s the point.”

He took one last look at the picture of the car and imagined himself driving it, disappearing from sight as he drove away from the city, away from the grime and the suffocation. He lost himself in the thought until the spell was broken.

“Shiro. Someone's calling for you,” Shay said. He blinked back into reality and looked at the phone in front of him. Plaxum left his side as he took the phone, turning away and huddling into the receiver. No one ever called him.

“Who is this?”

A familiar voice replied. “Well, hello to you too. This is that stud from the club.”

Shiro let out a quiet breath of relief. “Hello.”

“So, you have my interest. I’d like to take you up on your offer. Tomorrow, find me outside the club we met at and I'll take us to a place we can talk. Sound good?”

“Yes. What time?”

“You remember the colour of my hair? The first letter, I'll meet you at the number it stands in the alphabet. You get that?”

“Yeah, got it,” Shiro replied. He felt like rolling his eyes at the extravagance of it, but respected the need for privacy and attention to detail. Shiro's phone was unlisted, but he didn't know if Lance's was.

“See you then.”

He hung up and Shiro handed the phone back to Shay. “Thanks.”

She looked at him expectantly. “So?”

“It was him. I'm meeting him tomorrow. I'm going to try tell him everything.”

Shay seemed happy, but conflicted. “Is that a good idea?”

“I wish I had the time to figure that out, but I don't. He treated me well enough after finding out what I was. That alone is more than most with his job would do. It's now or never,” he said grimly.

-

Lance leaned over the railing, watching smoke move across the sky in the reflection of the metal. He missed seeing water. He missed the rivers and the streams and the ponds. Most of his memories were taken over by the city, imagines of sun and water and country only distant impressions from his childhood. If he’d been allowed to keep personal belongings, he’d have the postcard from his old village pinned up someplace he could see it every day.

Shiro approached and Lance returned from his thoughts. Taking a moment to shake the nostalgic ache it brought him and turning once he felt the man beside him. He looked up at Shiro’s face, now bathed in what little daylight there was, and quietly appreciated the difference. He hoped he was as trustworthy as he looked. Lance was putting a lot on the line.

“Lead the way,” Shiro told him at last, something gentle about his presence that made their meeting feel less dangerous than it was. Lance did so, pushing off the railing and beginning to walk down the narrow, dingey street.

“So, do you usually go to clubs like that?” Shiro asked him as they walked.

Lance slid his cold hands in his pockets and shrugged. “When there’s nothing else to do.”

“I didn’t expect the gas,” Shiro commented. He brought it up casually, but Lance knew it was a way of explanation for the moment in the hallway.

“I guessed as much. You definitely didn’t strike me as a frequent club member,” Lance replied, tone almost teasing.

Their eyes met as they walked and Shiro shook his head. “No. I was there looking for someone actually.”

“Oh?” Lance was very interested by this. “Who would that be?”

“The Black Lion.”

Lance stared at him in shock. He didn’t quite believe what he’d heard.

“You… you’re kidding, right?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Lance opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure how to respond to such a bold statement. “You know she’s a myth, right? A story. Nothing more.”

Shiro seemed weary, like he’d gone through the conversation a million times before. Lance still had to say it though, still had to make sure he was understanding him right.

“She’s very real. I won’t go into detail until we’re safe, but I have proof.” He seemed like he truly believed it, no hint of irony or doubt. Lance was more fascinated than ever by him. Of all the things to come from his mouth, that had been the last thing he expected.

“The Black Lion’s real, huh? If that’s true, this is more important than I thought.”

His whole life, Lance had been told specific things about the dying world around him. He knew aspects were being kept from him, but trusted those at his base enough to believe it was best. They told him the things he needed to know, and the rest didn’t matter.

He’d questioned it, tried to make sense of things that didn’t seem to fit, but eventually gave up pushing. Something told him this was different, that he was about to find out the answers to everything that had plagued him for years. The Black Lion could save them, the myth that was supposed to bring their planet back to life. For the first time since he was a child, Lance felt hope for their future.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading if you got to the end!   
> I've really loved building this world, and if i can one day i'd like to add more to this, but for now i hope you liked it:)


End file.
